Into the Darkness
by Zoni
Summary: On the run from Sebastian, Eric and Alan share a single night of passion in the face of coming darkness.


**Into the Darkness**  
><em>Set after the reunion and before the end.<em>

Any port in the storm, and for them it's a cheap, rented room. There's nothing but bare boards and paint, a flea-bitten mattress and sheets that might be a century old. Wind whistles through cracks in the wall and water stains mark a flawed ceiling, but it's a safe haven for one night. This is a piece of respite before the world comes crashing down around them.

They haven't talked about it. Not really, not at all. There is no way for all of this to end well. There is no little white house waiting for them somewhere out in the countryside where they can go and hide away from the rest of the world. The decision was made the moment they took their glasses off, the moment they committed to each other as though nothing else in the world mattered. Nothing else in the world _does_ matter. Not then, not in that tiny, musty room where freezing rain drips through a corner of the ceiling. It's a wretched dump, but it's as good as a palace for the two of them.

All of the lies and secrets have fallen to the side. There is no reason to pull away or hold back when their hearts tell them to give in. That's why Alan doesn't bother putting on airs to try and reassure Eric. There's no use pretending that they're on a business trip or simply taking a weekend diversion as friends. When the door to the room closes and the single lamp they've been given to light the room flickers dimly, Alan simply steps further inside and reaches up to loosen his tie. The metal clasp comes away easily. His suit coat is discarded after that, followed by gloves that are carefully laid over the arm of the moth-eaten living chair set in the corner. The entire world is blurry around him, but he doesn't need glasses to see Eric clearly. The way Eric is looking at him, standing barely inside the doorway, makes up for the lack of focus. That look is its own kind of clarity.

When Alan reaches up to touch Eric's face this time, Eric doesn't pull away. Eric doesn't force himself to turn away or look anywhere but at the younger man. All of his secrets are on the table now, laid out in plain view for all too see. Murder most foul, unfathomable sin, all for the sake of a single person. Alan doesn't ask, and Eric doesn't have to say the words. There is only one reason anyone would ever go to such extreme lengths on the slim chance that it might pay off.

Alan has his doubts, but they mean little in this dark closeness. Eric has given him all of himself, everything except the closeness they both desired. For the first time in nearly a century, Alan is allowed to realize that Eric has felt like nothing without him. Alan knows now that he was not the only one so hopelessly lost in someone else.

Rough stubble. That's what Eric's face feels like as Alan lets his fingers wander down across strong cheekbones and an equally strong jaw. Charisma and stress have both made their mark, drawing faint lines at the edges of the supervisor's green eyes, gaining a little ground in spite of immortal youth.

Eric's eyes are darker than most, green like all other reapers and yet still somehow different. Or perhaps, Alan thinks, they're only different because they're Eric. Before this night, he's never seen them when they haven't been shrouded behind blue-tinted lenses, carefully looking anywhere but at him unless Eric thinks he isn't looking. Alan knows, and it draws a smile to his lips just then. He can read that expression on Eric's face like a book. Eric never expected to be accepted. Neither did Alan.

Eric's lips part, but Alan silences him with a finger before anything can be said. Tonight isn't a night for conversation. They've both said all that they need to, and words aren't necessary to know that they both feel the static hanging in the air. Expectation that has been building for hours, days, decades. Even when they weren't partners, Eric was always the leader of their intrepid duo. Supervisor, trainer, caretaker. For once, Alan knows it's his turn to lead the way.

Everything starts slowly, with Eric barely pressing into the light touch on the side of his face. He closes his eyes like a chance to relax, and he still doesn't pull away when Alan lets his fingertips drift across his chapped lips. The past few days have been a trial for both of them. Alan doesn't mind the roughness of his skin, or the way that Eric starts slightly at the touches he has never had a chance to become used to.

Softly, Alan lets his hand slide back, running through tangled strands of blond hair just for a moment. He's always wanted to touch and never had the chance. This might be his only chance and he wants to savor it. Every other time they've been this close, the Thorns of Death have been the reason. Before this, he has never had the chance to be next to the person he loves for any reason other than pain or weakness. Somehow, the reason doesn't seem to make the need he has for Eric any less potent. A minute. That's all he takes, being selfish and enjoying the sensation, and then he can't keep himself from it any longer.

Alan has waited forever for that kiss. He's thought about it ever since the very first day they were introduced in the over-coffeed offices of the Dispatch's basement. Imagination doesn't even hold a candle to the way it feels to lean forward and lift himself a little on his toes to feel Eric's lips pressing against his.

Eric's lips press back, taking charge and turning a gentle kiss into something filled with passion. Alan lets himself be pulled in, taking a stumbling half-step forward so he can almost feel Eric's heat even through their clothes. There's a hand on Alan's waist. Hesitant at first, as though Eric's still somehow now certain that he's allowed to give in. That changes the moment Alan runs his tongue along Eric's bottom lip, saying more than he ever thought he would without saying a word.

Eric lets him in at the same time that he tightens that hand on Alan's waist. He tastes like cigarettes, alcohol and all things dark and forbidden. Alan doesn't mind. He can't get enough even as Eric's other arm wraps around him, encouraging more of the small sounds that leave his lips as Alan finds himself pulled up against a strong chest.

Wrapping his arms around Eric's neck, Alan presses into that kiss as though it's the only thing in the world he has to hold onto. Maybe it is. He's magnetized by the feel of Eric's tongue against his and the heat of those broad fingers rubbing his back, sending little waves of electricity shooting through his skin.

It's not fair how much of Alan that Eric can feel. Alan's arms tangling around his neck are as close as he has gotten. Needing more, he lets those hands slide down Eric's chest, slipping under his coat and pushing it off his shoulders. Alan wonders why Eric even bothers with buttons when he ignores half of them, but he doesn't really care. He likes the feeling of spreading his palms out across Eric's chest and feeling the warmth of him through the fabric. He enjoys even that much, but he wants more.

It only takes a few seconds before Alan starts fumbling with Eric's tie, loose but stubbornly knotted. He wonders if it's ever been undone a day in its life or if Eric just pulls it over his head at the end of the day. Finally, the silk falls away, joining the jacket on the floor. Alan's fingers trail across the triangle of bare skin on Eric's chest as they finally break their kiss.

Alan only pauses when his fingers hit the buttons of Eric's shirt. Glass. That's what they're made of, and they're a marker telling Alan that he might want to pause. He might want to wait, even though there probably should be a better reason to stop what is happening. There is no better reason, no real cause. There's just a Moment, that feeling that they both need a minute to let the realization of their situation sink in. Eric's hold on his waist loosens just a little, and Alan's hands stop their frantic quest to rid Eric of his shirt. Standing in their own silence, they both stop to breathe for a long moment.

Finally, "_Alan_."

It's just his name, but the way Eric says it makes it sound like salvation. There's more to that single sound than just the word. Apologies, not for the crimes that had been unveiled earlier that night, but for the years of distance between them. These were the "I'm sorry" and "I should have" that Alan never thought he would hear. No matter how close the two of them might have been outside of the office, he knows that it had never been close enough for either of them. They had needed more, and now it was being given to them. But at what cost? Alan does not know, but it made that moment even more valuable.

Eric's strong hands come away from his waist. Alan feels the slight chill of air between them before he felt the heat of Eric's palm cupping the side of his face, one thumb brushing his cheek.

"Are you going to push me away again?" Alan asks quietly. He already knows the answer, but this is his chance to voice the question that haunts him every time he tries to get close to Eric. No matter how much Eric might want to let him in, he has never done so. Eric has always pushed him away. That happened, too, only a few days before at the Phantomhive manor, just before their tragedy had begun to unfold.

"No." The response from Eric is swift, a declaration. "Never again. I shouldn't have before. I... I just..."

Eric's words fail him completely, falling to the ground just like his tie. There is no need for love-drenched promises or vows of any sort. Alan had said enough when he forgave Eric for everything he had done. He had asked all the needed questions when he had asked to stay by Eric's side until his last breath.

"Come here," Alan says, a little of his customary smile returning for a moment. Those two words are all that is needed for Eric to reach up with his other hand, cupping Alan's jaw and leaning in to kiss him once more.

There is nothing hurried or rushed as each layer comes off. The heated kisses and desperation of the moment are set aside for this next step towards something inevitable.

Underneath the half-buttoned suit shirt Eric wears, he's perfect. Maybe he isn't the sort of perfect that everyone could appreciate, but Alan's eyes drink in every inch of skin until he wishes he could drown in it. He loves the way those thick fingers unfasten the glass buttons, tugging the shirt free from the confines of regulation trousers.

Eric's shoulders and chest are flecked with scars. Some of them are barely visible, but skin puckers slightly around the edges of deeper cuts. Eric is not someone who takes life passively; he tackles it head on, and all of that shows in his body, telling his story in a way that Alan can almost read.

Alan reaches up and threads his fingers through the smattering of dark hair on Eric's chest. Despite countless years of working together, laughing together and often sharing life, Alan has never seen Eric like this. He has never been allowed to touch. He wonders how many of those marks found their way onto Eric's skin while he was committing those sins that Alan despises so much. The sins that gave him Eric. He hates what was done, but he loves the fierce devotion behind the acts. He can see that same fierceness he can see in the look on Eric's face, reflected back now as something far deeper.

Finally dropping his shirt to the floor, Eric doesn't bother to remove the chains around his neck. This time, Alan isn't the one reaching out. Broad hands slide onto Alan's shoulders the same way they have a hundred times before. This time, the meaning is far different from any other time he's done that. This time, Eric is pulling him closer and saying his name.

Alan isn't sure who starts it, but suddenly they're moving backwards and Eric's hands have vanished from his shoulders. They reappear on Eric's own belt, fumbling to get it off. Alan gets there first, working the buckle opening and unfastening the three buttons of Eric's trousers. He pushes the fabric aside, letting his fingers drag over the muslin undergarments underneath at the same time he registers the cold of the iron bedframe against his own legs through his trousers.

They move as one, sliding onto the mattress. Suddenly, it somehow seems as though they've managed to get rid of their clothes, the material vanishing under hurried movements. Alan really doesn't know how it happens, and he doesn't care. He's too focused on the feeling of being pressed back into the worn blankets covering the mattress. The look in Eric's eyes is pulling him in, and he doesn't think he ever wants to be let go.

There is safety in their hideaway, lying back on that bed and being framed by strong arms as Eric's lips lay claim to Alan's throat. Hovering close enough to feel, Eric's body carries dark electricity, drawing Alan's fingers up to touch and trace across endless skin. He wants to feel everything.

Alan wants to know everything about what it's like to be with Eric like this, different and distant in so many ways from every moment spent in the office or in the field. Fingertips scratch their way down Eric's spine, and Alan is already learning. He can hear the heavy rush of breath that comes with the groan his actions bring, and suddenly he gets to know what it feels like to have Eric's hips pinning him down.

Hard. Eric's length is pressed right up against his hip, rutting against his own need. Alan doesn't know how he has waited so long to be this close. Love and pleasure mix together, flooding through his veins and they've barely even done anything. He knows it doesn't matter what happens; so long as he is there with Eric, everything will be perfect. After all, it already is, and the feeling is intoxicating. Strange, even though he is dying, he has never felt this alive.

All of the heat and dizzying lust pull away suddenly, leaving Alan's mind spinning. As soon as the sensation registers, it's replaced by the wet heat of a tongue teasing his earlobe and dragging down his neck. Eric is still there, kissing his way down Alan's thin body. Leaning to one side, Eric has one hand free to trace the smooth skin of Alan's belly, raising goosebumps in the wake of his fingers.

Then, it's Alan's turn to cry out, feeling the intoxicating pleasure of Eric's hand wrapping around him. Slow, almost hesitating, those fingers begin to move, pulsing down his length and spreading dampness as they go.

"How's that?" Eric asks. His voice is rough, hot. Alan usually has plenty of words, but just then he can't seem to find any of them. Instead, he gives a small cry without even meaning to as those fingers tense around his length at just the right moment, and he knows that words aren't really necessary.

What small sentence he had started to form is wiped from his mind once more as he registers the scratch of Eric's goatee against his stomach. Without warning, something much hotter than a hand wraps around his length. Soft lips pull him in, tongue teasing. Alan's hands find their way to Eric's hair. His fingers tangle in blond strands, braids coming undone under his hold, but Eric just keeps moving in a steady motion, making Alan feel more than he has in the past decade. He's taking Alan deeper and deeper until Alan can't stop his hips from surging up to meet his mouth.

Pleasure erases every thought in Alan's mind, replacing them with the soft rasp of Eric's tongue. Strong, steady hands hold his hips in place as Eric works, teasing the soft skin under the head of his cock, pulling him in as though he can't get enough.

Alan doesn't need to hear Eric speak the words to know that this is the years they missed together. This is an apology. There is no apology needed, especially not when Eric lets out a groan around his length, mouth surging down with renewed vigor. Eric's fingers brush down the sharp points of Alan's hips and onto his thighs. Alan's hands fall away from the tangles of blond and brownish-black, tangling in cheap sheets as his partner's hand moves, reaching down to cup his sac.

"_Eric_."

The name slips past Alan's lips without permission. He cries out again as Eric's lips tighten again, drawing him further into paradise. "Eric, if you... keep going like that... _Oh_."

No fireworks or stars. Alan hits the edge and the world dissolves in a wave of liquid white. Each pulse sends a renewed wave of dizzying sensation, making his mind spin.

Eric pulls his mouth away and Alan is left panting, the world drifting in pieces around him. As things start to come back into focus, he feels the unnatural chill of the air for a moment as Eric shifts, moving higher against his body. The cold around him is quickly replaced as he feels the scratch of beard and Eric's mouth finds him, claiming him once more. He can taste himself on that tongue.

Alan is drowning. He can't stay afloat in the dark sea of their rented room. Eric's kisses and touches are like air. Now more than ever, Eric seems to be the only thing that keeps him alive. The sound of that voice murmuring his name against his lips, over and over again as though he needs him too. It's everything, and Alan needs him just as much. He lets his hands slide across sweaty skin, grasping at shoulders and muscles, trying to convey the words he has never been able to say.

Eric offers no resistance. He doesn't ask any questions. He follows the pull as Alan's legs part, covering him completely once again. One hand on Alan's leg pushes both of them further open, making room so that he can settle between them. When he's settled, he looks up with only the slightest apprehension. It's not much, barely visible, but it's there. Alan can see it. Alan _knows_. He's known for a long time that Eric has held himself back. He wishes that Eric wouldn't. Can he really not see that Alan wants to give all of himself?

Alan tells himself that he doesn't mind the hesitation. Not really. Nothing between them has ever been easy, but Eric is still there, holding him and letting him light the way. For once, the doubts and secrets they've kept are gone. All that is left is the two of them.

"Please, Eric," Alan breathes. He can feel the weight of what he is about to ask; these are the words he has wanted to say for years, and he knows that he may never again get the chance to say them. He feels all of the past few days coloring the air as the words leave his lips: "Make love to me."

There's a hesitation and a groan, and then Alan's name leaves Eric's lips in a heated prayer. Eric doesn't pull away, doesn't protest. He doesn't ask if going further will trigger an attack from the Thorns of Death. He just kisses Alan, hard and sweet. When the kiss ends, Eric spits into his hand and slides his fingers down between them. Alan feels the wave of heat as those fingers press up against him. Sticky-wet heat swirls for a moment, and then one thick finger presses into him.

It's just a finger, but Alan's mouth falls open at the sensation. Eric is being gentle, taking his tome as he gets Alan ready. Soft lips press against Alan's neck as that finger works further into him. Mild discomfort is quickly forgotten, replaced by the sound of Eric's breath getting heavier every time he pushes that finger in. A second finger joins the first and the heat in the room seems to double, drawing a soft moan from Alan's lips.

And then those fingers begin to pull away, sending sparks shooting up Alan's spine while making him feel incredibly empty. His thin fingers scrabble across Eric's back, sliding down sweat-slicked skin. Eric moves, pressing his legs further apart and sliding down on top of him, so close that their combined heat threatens to burn. The heavy weight of Eric's arousal rests against Alan's thigh, making promises of what's to come. Then, slowly, Eric shifts and all of that heat is pressed right up against his backside.

Alan draws a shaky breath, feeling every inch of Eric's body above him. One of Eric's hands finds its way to the side of Alan's face, offering a moment of quiet. Then, the only sensation that registers is the feeling of Eric pushing into him, taking him and filling him completely.

"Fuck," Eric grunts, tilting his head back. Every inch of him is buried in Alan's heat. Alan is overwhelmed. He can barely think or breathe. All he can do is feel.

And then Eric moves.

Slowly, softly, Eric shifts. Alan can feel the warmth of Eric's eyes watching his face, but he's too focused on other sensations to care. Alan knows that maybe it should hurt, or sting, or something, but it doesn't. Not really. What they're doing feels as though he's been waiting for this since the very first day he arrived at the London division. Since that first day they met. And he's never felt more full, heart, body and soul.

"'S this okay?" Eric asks. Alan's heart skips a beat. They're this close and yet Eric is still worrying about him. "Tell me if something hurts. Alan..."

Alan is smiling. He can't help himself. This is as far from pain as he's ever been, and he hopes Eric knows that. Those hands on Eric's back slide up, pulling him down so that Alan can steal another kiss. Alan feels the surprising sensation of Eric shaking ever so slightly. The way Eric presses into that kiss, though, tells him everything he needs to know. When they break apart, Alan takes only a moment to study the raw emotion on Eric's face, all of his calm and cool gone.

"This is more than fine," he assures Eric. "This is perfect. Please, Eric. Please. I need you now."

Truer words have never been spoken, and he knows that even as Eric shifts again and starts to move. Slowly and very carefully, as though he's still afraid that Alan is made of glass. If that's the way he wants things to start, Alan won't protest. He just feels Eric pushing into him, completing him in a way that he's never known before. When Eric pulls out, Alan can feel every inch pulling at his sanity. He wraps his legs around Eric's hips, pulling him closer once again and encouraging him to continue.

The air in the room isn't cold anymore, not as they find their rhythm, both of them moving together. They are trying to get closer and eliminate even the smallest space between them. Eric slides a hand down the back of Alan's thigh, pulling his leg up and changing the angle, and it's all that Alan can do to stop himself from crying out. He's already panting, his nails digging into Eric's skin.

Alan can feel himself pulsing against Eric's stomach, but his thoughts are too scattered to care about that one, single point of sensation. Eric won't let him focus. He_ can't_ focus, not with that hand that was on his leg sliding back up his side. Eric is touching every inch of him, pulling him closer in a way that says that Eric will never let him go.

But Alan wants to let go. All of that passion, all of that sweet tension between them, is starting to build. The heat is doubling, tripling as Eric begins to move faster. Eric is panting heavily against his neck, not breath scalding skin alongside an endless stream of murmurs. His name, endearments, the exact words are lost to the night as the hand wandering across his body finds its way further down to wrap around his arousal. With that single action, the world seems to condense to the space between their bodies. Alan can't get enough of that feeling. He will never have enough, but this is all he can have and he knows it.

Alan's hands tighten on Eric's muscled shoulders, his breath coming in halted pants as electricity charges every small push. Digging his fingers in, he surprises even himself with the shout of Eric's name that leaves his lips. The sound repeats when Eric tilts his hips, pressing into him from another angle.

"Yeah?" The only coherent word Eric has manages, but he needs no response. Alan's legs tighten around Eric's hips, pulling him in and asking for more.

The end is close. Alan tenses, back arching up as Eric's hands tighten, hitting just the right place and sending him over the edge for the second time that night. All of the heat and all of those stars around him seem to burst, the world dissolving into blinding nothingness. A warm pulse deep inside of him and a loud groan at his ear follow as Eric joins him. Rough and smooth all at once, they reach bliss together.

Neither man wants to move. Holding himself up just enough so that Alan can breathe, Eric rests there with his head buried in the crook of Alan's neck. Alan cannot bring himself to open his eyes, too afraid that he has dreamed everything that has happened even with the heat of Eric still buried in him. This is too perfect, too close to what he has always wanted to be real.

In truth, Alan has never pictured their story unfolding like this. He has never thought that Eric would give into him, or that it would happen under circumstances as dire as these. None of that matters. Tomorrow will take care of itself. And just then, what they have is...

"Until the end," Eric murmurs.

Alan stirs, letting himself be drawn out by that simple phrase. "Until the end?"

"I should have promised you a long time ago," Eric replies. "What I did earlier. I'm such a bloody fool, waiting this damn long. And now it's too late. Doesn't mean anything now."

The air around them hasn't chilled even with this sudden rush of guilt. Alan lets his arms slide down, wrapping loosely around the other man's waist. "That's not true." It wasn't. Eric will never be too late for him.

Eric pulls away slowly, the air between them sharp. "Isn't it?" he asks, sinking onto the mattress beside Alan. No declaration of love, no soft endearments whispered into the night. This is their conversation, the one they need to have before the end. Soft words have no place in the world of reapers, not even there.

"Never," Alan murmurs. He turns, ignoring the slight twinge in his backside as he looks up at the other man. Reaching up, he touches the side of Eric's face and enjoys the way that his pulse speeds up as Eric doesn't flinch or pull away. "You promised to stay with me until the end. That's all I want or need."

Eric looks back at him and much of the strength that Alan has come to admire is gone in the dim candlelight of their rented room. So rarely has Alan seen him like this, all of Eric's everyday cool gone, leaving him just a man with ordinary concerns that are unbecoming of a reaper. This is the man that Alan has waited forever to see like this, and now he gets his chance.

"The end, huh? I'm afraid that might not be far off," Eric says lowly. "I was trying to save you, y'know. Gave it my all, but..."

"We've got tonight, don't we?" Alan asks, studying Eric's green eyes and wondering if Eric can see just as much uncertainty in his own. Doubts, fear. Those are life now, but he found strength in what he can see reflected back at him from Eric's gaze.

Eric's breath catches in his chest. Reaching out, he wraps an arm around Alan's waist, pulling him close against his side. Every moment is precious. The night is theirs.

"And every night after that we can manage," Eric replies earnestly. "I'm not leavin' you. Don't think I could even if I tried, and I wouldn't have it any other way. So long as you'll have me, I'm here."

Leaning up, Alan pulls him into a soft kiss. What little time is left, he will take. Pulling back, he rests a hand on Eric's chest, taking in the feel of the heartbeat under warm skin.

"Then this is how we'll be," Alan whispers, "until the end."

**End.**

_Author's Note:_ I left the Kuroshitsuji fandom a few years ago, but Eric and Alan remain near and dear to my heart. Even now, I hear people discussing what might have happened between the time that they found one another and the tragic moment that brought about the end. I thought I would offer you my take on the situation. Please forgive me for any typos - my beta readers are all away on holiday, and I'll fix them as soon as possible. Back to my usual K-pop writings now. Thanks for reading!


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